South Park Games of Hunger
by herwordsdestroyedmyplanet
Summary: The adults of South Park have decided to recreate The Hunger Games in their town. Poor Kenny McCormick is caught in the action of it all. Let's see who makes it out alive.
1. Chapter 1

Honestly, the idiocy of the adults in my town stupefies me. Yes, I realize I should be the last person saying this, considering my parents are the laughing stock of South Park. Abusive alcoholics, my parents are only the most obvious idiots in town; however, the ignorance of the other adults should be far more horrifying. Because thanks to them, I am standing at yet another uncalled for meeting in Town Square, where they are about to announce the names for an event that is going to get 23 of their teenagers murdered.

I don't know how the town council managed to come up with this awful idea, let alone why. I realize that The Hunger Game franchise is in full popularity at the moment; however, sending 24 of their own teenagers into an arena sounds a bit… ridiculous. And uncalled for. But somehow the mayor managed to pass a bill legalizing the events in town. Knowing how foolish the adults are, it probably took about five minutes to convince them that this was a good idea, despite the fact that it required their children to kill each other for entertainment.

It was over a month ago when they announcing the date for today, The Reaping Day. Ever since then, camera crews from all different channels have been hovering around the high school like crazy, interviewing all of the juniors about all sorts of different things. They've pulled me out of class over a dozen times, asking me various questions about my extra curriculars and grades. Unfortunately, I am sort of disappointing, as my grades are below average and I don't prefer to compete in any sports competitively at the high school. Each time I would answer, the man behind the camera would nod, and then dismiss me back into my class. It was an uncomfortable routine that I eventually got used to.

But now was not the time to focus on the events of the past. At the moment, my two closest friends from elementary school, Stan Marsh and Kyle Broflovski, were standing at my side looking up towards the stage, which was flocked with camera crews.

I forgot to mention: this event would be broadcasted across the nation. Similar to the real Hunger Games, each person involved is to be guided by a mentor. There were going to be sponsors; however, there was one main difference between the original Hunger Games sponsoring and our town's wannabe one. In ours, each of the participants will be "bought" by a different television network. This television network will be required to televise live feed of their participant until they are eliminated from the games. The networks "buy" their teenager after the number scores are released. It's an interesting concept, but I would rather not be involved at all. Killing my friends is surely not on my agenda.

As Stan and Kyle were chatting casually, I remained quiet. With my curse, I had a way out of this whole predicament. Technically, I didn't have to compete at all. I could just let someone kill me in the beginning, during that "Bloodbath" or whatever it's called. I would just wake up at home safe and sound (well as safe and sound as the McCormick household is). Unlike my friends, I would end up just fine in the end. If their names are called, that's the end. And I wouldn't have that.

* * *

_Hello! My name is Kaytie and this is my new story that I plan on completing this summer. It will be from the POV of Kenny and there will be no OC characters whatsoever. Commenting is cool. _

_Hope you enjoy it!_


	2. Chapter 2

The loud roar of the crowd was silenced eerily by the appearance of a single individual on stage. There was supposed to be some celebrity host, but I never expected it to be this person. I thought it would be some B-list horror movie star, but was I wrong.

"Hello ladies and gentlemen of South Park! My name is Ellen DeGeneres and I will be hosting the first ever annual South Park Games of Hunger!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Stan grumbled, "South Park Games of Hunger? Do they like not have the legal rights for Hunger Games or something?" Knowing how desperate our town was for money and attention, Stan was probably right.

Ellen made her way towards two large glass bowls, filled with tiny pieces of paper. In one of the bowls, the papers were pink. The other one was filled with blue. "Now it's the part you've all been waiting for! It's time to choose the contenders for our games! Since ladies first is so overdone, let's start with our dudes! May the odds ever be in your favor!"

Kyle gulped, "Good luck guys."

The crowd was engulfed in complete silence as Ellen dunked her hand into the blue bowl, pulling out a single paper. It seemed to take millennium as she unfolded the small triangle. She scanned the opened material for a moment before reading the first name.

"Clyde Donovan."

I watched as Clyde plowed his way through the crowd, probably holding back tears as he made his way to the stage. Clyde has always been a sensitive guy; I doubt he's going to last too long in the arena.

Ellen stuck her hand in the bowl, reading out another name.

"Eric Cartman."

Cartman, who was standing next to Butters instead of us, shoved through a group of cheerleaders, eager to make his way onto the stage. He shook hands with Ellen with a wicked smile on his face. It was almost like he was glad he was given this opportunity.

Another name was read aloud. And when it was read, my heart seemed to stop for a moment.

"Kyle Broflovski."

With his head sunk to his chest, Kyle turned around to give Stan and I a group hug before turning to the stage. Being one of my best friends, I personally knew that Kyle was weak. He wouldn't last two days fighting on his own. And that caused my heart to sink. This was truly a horrendous day.

The names began to blend into one another.

"Craig Tucker."

"Kevin Stoley."

"Adam 'DogPoo' Petuski."

"Tweek Tweak."

"Butters Stotch."

"Stan Marsh."

When Stan's name was called, it was like Kyle all over. A cloud of heavy depression shrouded my thoughts. Everything seemed so distant, like this was a dream. But it wasn't, and that made things ten times worse.

Just three names left. I braced myself for the worst.

"Token Black."

Two more.

"Christophe DeLorne."

One. One more.

"Jason Martin."

I almost choked on my spit. My name wasn't called at all. This is was wrong, horribly wrong. I'm immortal. I should be up there. It would spare one more life.

But then I recalled the book. Katniss took place of her sister in the game; perhaps I could take place of someone else.

I through my hand up in the air. "I volunteer. I volunteer to take the place of someone else!" I shrieked.

Ellen looked at me for a moment before busting out laughing. "Then come up here, kid."

I felt like everyone in the crowd was staring at me as I pushed through the bodies blocking my way. Ellen gave me her hand, helping me get up onto the stage.

Without letting go of my hand, she brought hers up, bringing my arm up along in the process. "Here we have the final guy for our male participants! Jason, you are free to go!"

A sting of anger hit me as Jason walked off the stage. I wanted to take place of someone I actually cared about, like Stan or Kyle or Butters, not this skater asshole. As I approached the final empty seat on the male's side, I attempted to blow off steam. Christophe glared at me as I sat down adjacent to him. He was probably pissed that I didn't take his place. I completely understood.

The calling of the girl's names seemed to go by in a matter of moments.

"Ashley Barnett."

Commonly known as Mercedes, the queen of Raisins made her way to the girl's side and sat down with a smirk. It's common knowledge that the Raisins girls and the cheerleaders hate each other. Mercedes is probably excited knowing that she may have the opportunity to annihilate the girls she hates most.

"Nelly Michaels."

"Bebe Stevens."

"Sally Darson."

I watched carefully as Sally made her way onto the stage. She was an interesting girl. Captain of the high school's swim team, she was madly popular with the people involved on the school's aquatic teams; however, she didn't talk too much with the "in-crowd" of the class of 2014. She was just sort of there. I wonder how she's going to manage in the arena.

"Annie Faulk."

My ex-girlfriend. It felt bittersweet watching her sit down next to Sally.

"Kelsie Rogers."

Another Raisins girl, Lexus. The ginger rolled her eyes at Annie and she took the seat beside her. It was almost unnatural hearing her regular name, since everyone just calls her Lexus.

"Wendy Testaburger."

I glanced back to where Stan was sitting. In a matter of seconds, his face managed to turn from pale to sheet white. Even though the two hadn't dated in almost six months, Stan still felt extremely protective of the girl. If he hadn't promised me otherwise, I would've believed he still loved her.

"Rebecca Tucker."

"Lizzy Whittaker."

"Amanda Leone."

I have never heard Porsche's real name before. Feeling betrayed, I watched as my favorite Raisins waitress sat next to Lizzy.

"Lola Porte."

"And last but not least, Nichole Willis!"

There was a stale silence as Ellen assisted Nichole with getting on the stage. Completing the same gesture she did with me, Ellen continued speaking.

"Now that we have our 24 lovely contestants, we will be heading off to Los Angeles, California to complete the remainder of our festivities before the games. Tune in to Channel 2 for full coverage. Good night America!"

In that moment, we were stormed by a menagerie of security guards. In a frantic flurry, the guards ushered us from our seats into a van. I hardly had time to breathe, let alone think. This was all happening so quickly. And I was dreading every single moment of it.

* * *

_Here's Chapter Two. You're all cool for checking this out. Commenting is cool too yeah. _


	3. Chapter 3

I'm being extremely serious when I say that the van was packed like a can of sardines. Since I was the last person loaded into the vehicle, I was given the most unfortunate spot, stuck sitting with my ass hanging off half of the seat while squished next to Christophe. Let's just say our relationship was a bit edgy.

Two years ago, in our freshman year, Christophe transferred to South Park High after being homeschooled for a little while. Not only was he the new kid, but he was also the _attractive _new kid. At that point in time, I was in the midst of a fling with Lola, one of the girls from cheer. You see, when Christophe transferred here, Lola's attention went from completely centered on me to completely centered on Christophe. Ever since then, we've been completely competitive when it comes to girls. After Annie and I broke up last year, Christophe did anything he could to try and get into her pants. I respect Annie for not giving into that psychopath.

And here we were, asses rubbed against each other as the van cruised along the highway. Christophe curled his lip as I looked over towards him, and I let out a sigh.

"Hey, you don't have to be an asshole. This seating arrangement is only temporary. It will be over eventually," I stated, attempting to be the better guy.

"Zis is just uncomfortable," the foreigner groaned, and I nodded in agreement. Luckily, the man in the passenger's seat turned around to speak before I had to continue the conversation.

"Hello contestants! My associate and I are in charge of your transportation to the trains, where you will board your selected cabin." The man pulled out another glass container filled with small bunched up pieces of paper, and I groaned. Yet another game of choosing that I have to endure. He continued, "I am going to pass this bowl around. Please be sure to only grab one slip. Your number will dictate which cabin you will be boarding, in addition to your partner. As you will not be aware of which female received which number, it is fine for you to switch the numbers around, if you feel that is necessary."

The man passed me the bowl first, considering I was the person lined up on the edge of the first row. I pulled out the first slip on top and passed the container to Christophe. After fumbling with the paper for a little bit, I unwrapped it to read the number scrawled on the front.

8.

My number was 8. In a parallel van, one of the girls from my high school would be pulling the same number, probably feeling the same way I do now: confused and anxious. I looked over to see the number written on Christophe's paper: 5. I don't really know why I checked; it's not like his number would affect me at all. This whole partner thing is dumb anyways. Why does it matter that we have a partner? Only one victor comes out anyways.

I fiddled with my piece of paper for a little while, until the van came to a complete stop. Yet again, security guards ushered the twelve of us out into the open, but instead of being crammed into a van, we were being moved towards the station. I fell back to where Stan and Kyle were talking.

"Hey guys, what numbers did you get?" I asked.

"2," Stan stated.

"I got 11. This whole number thing is lame anyways," Kyle added. The ginger ran his fingers through his mid-length ginger hair, letting out a deep breath. When Kyle went into high school, he ditched his hat and decided to cut his hair. Even though he saw it as an act of maturity, I saw it as an act of confidence. His hair suited him better like this anyways.

"So, who do you guys want as your partners?" Stan asked.

Kyle went into detail about how he thought that Lizzy Whittaker was going to be the most dangerous person in the game, and how he wanted to stay on her good side. Seeing as Lizzy was raised in a cabin in the woods with her mentally instable mother, I can see where Kyle is coming from. The girl is 120 pounds of lean, mean fighting machine. Plus, she does competitive archery, which we all know will come in handy, seeing as it got Katniss of The Hunger Games quite far.

"Well, Bebe Stevens would be pretty cool. She's super athletic and stuff. Her cheer stunts are the best on the team by far. And she has a nice rack to add to it all," I shrugged, not really giving thought to my answer.

"Of course you would say that, Kenny," Stan laughed, punching me in the arm. I let out a small smile, even though the impact of his fist hurt more than you would expect.

Kyle looked to his best friend. "What about you, dude?"

Stan looked to Kyle for a moment without speaking, just giving him the sassiest look. "Is this even a question? Wendy. Of course."

Kyle busted into laughter, shaking his head. "Sorry man, I wasn't really thinking. I can't believe I didn't even think about that."

I smiled for a moment, realizing that it's still possible to stay lighthearted in a situation as dire as this. Kyle and Stan were just continuing to prove that to me.

After walking for a little while longer, we were guided through the doors of the station. As we entered the building, I noticed that camera crews were scattered about yet again. It seemed like the TV networks really wanted to televise _everything. _

Security guards channeled the twelve of us to a row of chairs in front of a large, roped off area. Behind the rope was the train, which consisted of 15 different cabins. I knew that there would be twelve pairings, so it puzzled me that there would be three extra carts. I understood that there was a need for a front engine car, but I wonder what was being held in the other two.

The man from the passenger seat began to speak again. "Could you all please take a seat while we call your numbers. If you decide to do otherwise, one of guards will decide to… persuade you otherwise."

One of the security guards stepped in front of the roping, pulling out a Taser from a holder on his belt. I watched as Craig Tucker sat down immediately, something that I wouldn't ever expect from the teenager. He was supposed to be the iconic "rebel" of the town, but I guess that persona wouldn't carry over in the Games.

After a few minutes of sitting in awkward silence, Ellen DeGeneres maneuvered her way to the front of the roping, camera crews in tow. With a smile, she turned to speak to us again. "Hello young men. This is another big step in your journey through the South Park Games of Hunger. In ten minutes, all twelve of you will know who your partner in the games will be. You may be wondering: why do you need a partner if only one person wins? Well, you and your partner will be sharing a mentor, as well as a sponsoring television network. This means that your sponsor funds in the Games will be shared. If you two decide to work together, your funds will be shared more equally. On the other hand, if you happen to kill your partner, you will only be able to access half the funds. So just make the right decision when it comes to their fate, alright?"

I nodded, understanding that Ellen was making a very good point. I just hope that my partner is going to be someone that contributes.

"So now I am going to call numbers. As your female counterparts are already loaded into their respective cabins, it's impossible for you to know who is where. So may the odds ever be in your favor."

* * *

_So there was chapter three cool. Who do you think (or want) the guys' partners to be? Comment with your opinion and I may incorporate it into the next chapter! _

_Also I apologize for the slow pace of these first couple of chapters. I have to establish background info and stuff before I can get to the good part :-)_


	4. Chapter 4

Tremors of anxiety writhed through my body as I awaited the calling of my number. It had been fifteen minutes since guards began to escort my classmates one by one to their cabin, where they would be able to meet their partners for this wretched festivity. Ellen DeGeneres had called the numbers up to six so far, which unfortunately meant that Stan was no longer lingering in the waiting area with us. Kyle and I whispered in severely hushed tones as we anticipated our number.

"Dude, I wonder who Stan ended up with," Kyle stated in a monotonous manner.

"Yeah, seriously man. I'm just hoping he's not with Bebe," I retorted.

"That's because you want to fuck her on the train ride there."

"Well Kyle, I'm not denying that but still."

"What purpose would she even serve to you in the games?"

"Eye candy."

"I worry about you sometimes, Kenny."

"Number seven it's your turn," Ellen announced. As soon as I heard her voice, I turned from facing Kyle to observe as Adam Petuski climbed out of his chair to approach the security guards who were waiting for him. Adam was an interesting kid. Back in the day we used to call him DogPoo, considering he was always dirty and looked pretty much like utter shit. Now that he's a bit older, he began to deny the nickname and started to take care of his hygiene. He was one of the starters on the varsity soccer team back at South Park High. I bit my lip as I recalled his agile maneuvers at the League Championship last year. He was surely going to be a tough competitor.

My eyes followed as DogPoo confidently strolled towards the television host, shaking her hand before being guided away by bouncer-esque men. That little shit; he was acting like this wasn't a big deal at all. A small flame of anger ignited inside me, causing me to snap back towards Kyle.

"Dude, we should make an alliance or something," I quickly murmured.

"Well, it's not like I was going to go off and kill you anyways man. That would be completely retarded of me," Kyle replied.

"If either you, Stan, or I get hurt, we should all vow to do our best to save each other's asses."

"I like that idea, dude. If we get to see Stan again before the Games begin, we should totally tell him that."

"Why wouldn't we see him before the Games, Kyle?"

"I don't know Kenny. Who knows what's going on anyways."

There was a brief moment of silence between the two of us before I heard the sound of another voice: Ellen's voice. "Number eight, it's time to rock and roll." Getting up from my seat, I went down to bro-hug Kyle before making my way over to where the security guards were looming. With each step I took, I became more and more anxious almost to the point where I was quivering. By the time I was standing next to the extremely tall men, my hands were shaking uncontrollably.

"Follow us," one of the men instructed as the other one grabbed my wrist. I winced as he tightened his grip.

For a few uncomfortable minutes, I was nearly dragged to the correct train cabin: the one inscribed with a large eight on the side. As the guard released my arm, I was ushered through the door into the spacious area.

The first thing I noticed about the cabin was the head of blonde hair facing away from me, sitting down at the table. The hair was fine, curly, and pulled up into a high ponytail. It was quite possible that it was Bebe perched there, making herself confortable. I decided to try my luck.

"Bebe, is that you?" I asked, touching the girl's shoulder. My heart dropped in my chest when she turned around; it was Sally Darson. My partner was Sally Darson.

"You wouldn't be so fortunate."


End file.
